


these violent delights

by distractionpie



Series: Band Of Brothers Week [13]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Western, First Meetings, M/M, Temporary Character Death, Westworld Fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 10:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11781099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: Babe isn't too sure about this whole Westworld thing, but a free vacation is a free vacation, even if he is alone.(Band of Brothers Week 2 Day 7 - HBOwarswap.)





	these violent delights

**Author's Note:**

> I was drawing a total blank on the HBO war swap so I decided to cheat and expand by thinking to HBO in general and promptly had an idea which ran away with me.

Babe feels out of place.

He’s pretty sure he looks it too, with his thumbs tucked through the holes in the cuffs of his ratty Penn State hoodie and his jeans so threadbare that they’ve almost split at the seams.

Most of the people around him are wearing suits. It's not what Babe would call typical vacation wear, but this is hardly a typical vacation.

The train pulls into the station with a stop so smooth he barely notices it and so he's one of the last out of the carriage. If this were Six Flags or Disneyworld that would translate to long waits at the back of lines, but there are no crowds on the platform when he steps out, his fellow passengers are already dispersing through the gleaming white space.

“You must be Edward, welcome to Westworld.”

Babe jumps. “Oh! Oh, hi,” he says. The speaker is an attractive blonde man in a pristine white suit that matches the white businesswear of the people who are escorting Babe’s fellow passengers across the station. It’s clearly some kind of staff uniform and it tells Babe right away that he could never work in a place like this because he’d be grubby within five minutes.

“Given it’s your first visit, I have a few personal questions,” the man says, touching Babe’s arm in a gentle prompt to get thim walking towards the stairs out of the station. “Do you have any pre-existing medical conditions?”

“Uh... no.”

“Heart problems?” the man continues.

Babe shakes his head.

“Any history of mental illness? Depression, panic attacks?”

Babe had already answered all of these on the form. “No, nothing like that. But I wanted to ask, are there any extra rules, y’know since I won the tickets instead of buying?” Westworld was a playground for the super rich when it opened and while Babe knows the prices have dropped to attract a wider audience since the Roman themed park had opened two years ago, he’s still waiting for the catch because a years free pass seems like a really excessive prize just for winning one little national design competition.

“The only limit here is your imagination,” the man answers and Babe has to fight the urge to roll his eyes a little because that might be a good tagline for adverts but he knows for a fact it isn’t true - after all the park still had to obey the laws of physics.

“But there are stories right?” he asks. “You don’t just have to wander around and make your own luck entirely.”

“You start in the centre of the park, it’s simple, safe.” Babe recalls what he’s seen the brochures, how the beginning is basically Main Street Disneyland, a sanitized kid friendly version of the old West. “The further out you venture, the more intense the experience gets. How far you want to go is entirely up to you.”

Babe nods. Up to him, and the fact that he’s only here for the weekend and doesn’t have time to get that deep. Not that he’s interested in some of the more depraved storylines advertised anyway.

At the top of the stairs they turn and he’s lead down a much narrower corridor although it's still stark white and brightly lit.  It takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the next room they enter, the lights are dimmer and the walls and panelled and lined with transparent cases like a gallery or a museum.

In each of the cabinets are items of clothing, and Babe’s first instinct is that he shouldn’t touch the glass because anything shut away like that must be forbidden but then he realises these must be the costumes to be worn inside the park.

“So, I mean, we’ve got to stay in character I guess?” Babe asks, eyeing the costumes. It’s one of the things he’s not keen on about the park - he’s never been much of an actor.

“We work hard to keep the guests separate from parties they don’t belong to, so that you can make whatever choices you like. Starting here. Everything is bespoke and exactly your size - you’re free to become whoever you want to be.”

Babe's not sure he knows who he wants to be, after all he doesn't know who there is room for in the world he’s about to enter. Anyway, in his dress up games with his siblings he'd just gone along with whatever they wanted him to be - he had made an awesome fairy pirate queen though.

In the centre of the room are cabinets of weapons - guns, which he supposes must be fake like laser tag or something but also knives which look intimidatingly sharp. “Are those safe?”

“Don’t worry, you can’t kill anyone you’re not supposed to,” the man says with a reassuring smile.

Babe realises suddenly that he never even got the guy's name, and wants to kick himself. His mother raised him better than that. “Hey, sorry, what’s your name?”

“You can call me Aiden,” the guy says. “Once you’ve picked what you’d like we can go through to the dressing room and I can assist you.

Babe hopes his expression doesn’t look as dubious as it feels. He doesn’t want to be rude about this guy's job, but honestly what the fuck is up with rich people that they’d need help just to dress themselves? “Nah, it’s cool,” he says, stepping away to take a better look at the clothing options.

He doesn’t know enough history or fashion to be able to have a strong opinion on the options available, but he figures whoever set them out must have known that they were doing so he settles on a plain blue button down that looks like something he might wear as regular clothes, with a brown vest and jacket and some plain pants and boots. The weapons he selects entirely at random, no clue as to what’s good.

He dresses - all by himself like a grown-up, thank you very much - and he suspects he's supposed to feel like a badass when he exits the changing room, but mostly he just feels a bit ridiculous especially since all of his spurs and buckles jangle with every step.

It seems like he ought to be done but then Aiden leads him into a room filled entirely with hats. Babe is momentarily nonplussed but then he remembers the old cowboy movies his grandad was so fond of and the way the good guys and the bad guys were all nicely marked out by the colour of their hats.

Along one wall the hats are all plain black, along the other plain white.

Time to pick a side.

Hesitating for only a moment, he walks over and grabs a white hat off the wall. It’s gonna get grubby, Babe is sure, and playing the bad guy sounds interesting but he’s won a year long pass, and there’ll be plenty of time to explore that on another visit. For now, he’s going to keep it simple.

Aiden takes him down more corridors before wishing him a good trip and then, in literally the freakiest thing that has ever happened to him, Babe steps into what appears to be a moving train.

“ _The fuck?”_ he blurts out, looking around. He’s sure he wasn’t on a train before, he’d got off a train to get into the building and he could hardly have got a train into another train, but he’s definitely on one now, noisy and moving with a view out of the window that doesn’t look like a screen and when he presses his nose up against the glass and tries to look behind the train he doesn’t see any buildings, just miles and miles of open plains.

Right then, Babe knows he’ll be back. Even if playing cowboy turns out to be boring he needs to figure out how they pulled that trick off.

Most of the people around him seem to be in groups, which makes sense since Babe wouldn’t usually plan a holiday alone, but he guesses the park wouldn’t have given out individual passes if you couldn’t have a good time there solo. From what he’s heard, once he’s inside he’ll mostly be interacting with characters not other people anyway.

The bartender offers him a drink but Babe just shakes his head - he’s too much of a lightweight to start drinking alone. Instead he gazes out of the window at the wide expanse of land before him. Even after the time spent on the train to get to the park entrance it feels strange to have the desert stretching out around him and it makes him wonder just how fact those trains were going and if Westworld’s parent company doesn’t have advanced transport tech they’re keeping to themselves as well as the fancy robotics they use for their characters.

They pull into a station after about five minutes, and Babe lets most of the people around him get off before he makes his way to the doors, hopping down onto the platform with an absurd clatter. There are no barriers or ticket gates, not even a station building, just the starter town spread out in front of him. It’s busier than he expected, brimming with people and animals who seem to be going about their business, busy locals not tourists or characters waiting to play a part, although he knows they must be.

It’s pretty, if he had more time Babe could probably spend a day just hanging around enjoying the quaint little shops and getting settled in, but it reminds him of Main Street Disneyland, easy to get caught up in the novelty if you were a first timer, but mostly a tame distraction from the good stuff further on.

He hadn’t expected it to be this busy or so real, had figured he’d be pulled into a story like a showman picking a volunteer out of a crowd but he can’t even tell which of the people milling around the town are part of the park and which are fellow guests let alone just go up to them and interrupt.

He makes his way into the saloon, wondering if they serve soft drinks or if that would mess with the whiskey-soaked sort of pseudo-authenticity the place seems to be going for. It’s smokey inside and Babe’s first thought is to secondhand smoke and lung cancer but then he kicks himself because he sure the park must have some precaution against that being a problem and he’s never gonna be able to get stuck into this silly roleplaying game if he keeps letting himself get stuck on the technical details. With that in mind, he decides he’s not going to stall himself by being choosy - better to jump on the first adventure that comes his way and get stuck into the experience even if it does mean playing a kiddie game the first time around.

He ends up getting a coffee, which tastes way too good for the sort of cheap establishment this place is supposed to be, but Babe supposes that it might taste cheap to the usual rich clientele who no doubt were used to their coffee being hand grown and watered with the tears of virgins before being sent by luxury jet direct to their homes. While he’s sipping it, the bartender casually mentions to him that there’d been “a group of fools in earlier making plans to go up in the mountain and try and find the stash o’ gold rumoured to be left there after them bank robbers got ‘emselves killed,” and, oh, it seems Babe was worrying too much about finding a plot after all.

The bartender grumbles about fool young men chasing stories when Babe asks to know more but gives up the information before Babe can even being grow impatient. He’s found his starter story. He necks the rest of his coffee, throws what he thinks are the right coins down on the bar in payment, and heads out to find an adventure.

As directed he follows the main street up past the general store and the brothel (who payed all the money it took to get into a place like this just to pay more to stay indoors and have sex?) until he finds a gathering of men at the edge of town who must be the adventurers the bartender talked about.

“I...uh...” What would a somebody in his grandpa’s western movies say in a situation like this? “Need an extra body?”

The guy at the head of the group -tall, gray-bearded, and scarred- turned and looked Babe over appraisingly and Babe tries not to squirm. “You gotta horse?” he growls.

Babe shakes his head. Does he need a horse? Aiden hadn’t mentioned anything about that in the introduction, and even if Babe knew where to get a horse he sure a shit doesn’t know how to ride one. Babe’s a city boy and a-okay with that.

“No matter, you’d be best of leaving ‘er behind if you did,” they guy says, and Babe breathes a sigh of relief. “We’ll have to take it slow to make sure we don’t lose the trail, so it’ll be a hike. Hope them boots are comfy, boy.”

Babe rocks on his heels. The boots feel weird, not like anything he’s used to wearing, but they don’t rub or pinch so he’s pretty sure he can handle a walk. But that sounds like an invitation to come along and so he steps up until he’s standing with the rest of the group.

They’re mostly young guys, although plenty of them are well on their way to be being as scarred as their leader. Babe’s not used to being an outsider and it feels odd to be surrounded by unfamiliar faces who are talking about things of which he knows nothing.

At the front the leader is talking with two other men about preparations and Babe supposes he could go up and involve himself, but honestly he feels more comfortable just tagging along until he gets a feel for the place. Hopefully sticking in a group will make it easier to learn everything he needs to know.

As he’s surveying the others he notices one of them who doesn’t have such a worn look and is also on the outside of the conversation. Another visitor? Or just a character who is playing the new guy in this story too?

Babe makes his way through the huddle until he’s standing next to the guy. “I’ve never done this before,” he admits.

“Me either,” the guy says, smiling brightly like he’s pleased to know he’d not alone in being a rookie. “I’m John Julian.”

His accent is different from the others Babe has heard since arriving, something more southern maybe? He can place a Philly accent down to the block but anything outside of pennsylvania was never gonna be anything more than a rough guess. It sounds sweet to his ears though, a little softer than anything he’s used to and Babe decides that talking to him was a great idea and that he definitely wants to listen to Julian talk some more.

“I’m Babe, well, Edward, but-”

“Lotsa folks out here trying to make a fresh start with a new name,” Julian answers, smile blooming into a brilliant grin. “You’ll fit right in.”

Babe flushes, glad to get the sense that Julian likes him but a little overawed by that smile, and then laughs at himself a moment later over the silliness of getting flustered over something that isn’t real, like his sister and the way she gets so excited over those dumb video game romance scenes. “I’m still learning the ropes,” he confesses, “But I hope so.”

“Hurry up!” the leader of the treasure hunters shouts. “New guy! Julian! If you two wanted to yak you shoulda stayed in Sweetwater.”

*

They walk for most of the morning and while Babe suspects the smart thing to do would be to get up front and see what he can learn about the techniques being used and exactly how there came to be abandoned treasure that nobody has gone after already he finds himself hanging back to talk with Julian.

Julian has been in town a few months and is happy to share everything he’s learned with Babe. He talks about the best places to drink and what trouble spots to avoid -if you walked too close to the brothel they could get pretty pushy about inviting you in, he advises, cheeks pinking amusingly as he talks about it- and the rhythms of life in Sweetwater.

He asks about Babe’s home but Babe doesn’t want to talk about that, not sure how to translate his life into something that would make sense with the person he’s playing at being so he keeps it simple, a city out east but he’s not carrying that life with him here. Instead he prys into Julian’s past, curious as to how much backstory the Westworld characters are given. The story Julian tells is pleasant, a little farm -in the south as Babe had guessed- and a caring family whose lives Julian plans to improve with the treasure they’re seeking. Babe is pretty sure they must find the treasure at the end of this story, he can’t imagine park guests would be happy to get set up to fail, but hearing Julian’s hopes makes Babe more determined than ever to succeed. Perhaps when they get it he can give his share to Julian since it’s not like it’s any real use to Babe and maybe that will change Julian’s family’s story - Babe knows so little about the park that he has no way of guessing if that’s possible or not.

Sometime after the sun passes its zenith a few deers cross their paths and Babe figures it’s as good a chance as any to get a handle on using his gun. He unholsters it and takes aim and Julian snickers at him when Babe misses by a mile. “Who taught you to shoot like that?” he says. “You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

Babe assess his stance, elbow bent and gun held at hip level. “That’s how they do it on TV,” he says. At least, it’s how badasses on cool shows do it. He knows if he watched a serious crime drama things would probably be different.

Julian ignores his explanation - which makes sense Babe realises, the residents can’t acknowledge anything outside of the park or they’d ruin the immersion. Heck, they might not even know. They must leave the play area for maintenance and stuff, but they might not be turned on for that. “Here,” he says, pushing Babe’s arms up until they’re straight and he’s holding the gun out in front of his chest. “I’m not much of a shot, but you’ll at least be able to hit the broadside of a barn if you hold your gun like that.”

“I hope,” Babe says. It’s probably weird that his heart picks up at having Julian’s hands on him given that Julian isn’t even a real person, but it does and he likes it and it’s not like anybody needs to know. “Any more tips?”

Julian bites his lip, stepping behind Babe. “You’re grip is all wrong,” he says, wrapping his hands around Babe’s and correction their positioning, “And I think you need to widen your stance, but I’m no expert,” he steps back and ducks his head. “Y’know, we should probably catch up to the others. And I’m sure they’d be able to help you better.”

“That seems like enough for now,” Babe says, because he doesn’t really want hands on lessons from anybody else, but he doesn’t want to get lost either so they probably should catch up. “Maybe we’ll find something else for me to practise on.”

He’d worried about coming alone, but he sees now why the park didn’t off the standard ‘win a vacation for you and a friend’ style package - bringing someone from home was unnecessary when there was so much company to be found here.

Lunch is ate walking, dried meat and god Babe didn’t think through a several day camping trip at all before he ran off to join the group but thankfully Julian is willing to split his lunch as assures Babe that dinner will be communal anyway. He does seem to find Babe’s utter lack of forethought funny but Babe’s a joker and he’d never minded being laughed at, especially not by somebody with a smile as nice as Julian’s.

Babe has never worn bespoke boots before, doesn’t even want to imagine what they’d cost, but a part of him is still tempted to look into investing in a pair when he gets home because despite the day of walking there isn’t a hint of an ache in his feet as night falls and they come to a stop to avoid losing the trail in the darkness.

They make camp and Babe tries to pay attention to how the fire is started - that’s a useful skill he could take back to reality. They’re served beans and bread and Babe eats it with enjoyment, walking all day had worked him up an appetite, although he can’t help but wonder once again how the usual rich guests adapt to such simplicity compared to the luxuries they must be used to. Unless they were the sort of people who thought a good day’s food was three kale leaves and a glass of weird scienced-up water - for them this was probably a rich and gluttonous indulgence.

Babe has only been camping a few times before and that was in people’s backyards. He slept in a few cars to, but never out in something that feels like the open and never with nothing about him but stars. Julian has wandered over to talk to the leader about something and Babe finds himself watching the sky and wondering at the mysteries it contains - not just the big ones like the deeper secrets of the universe but closer ones to, like how the park owners managed to avoid airplanes flying over and breaking immersion or spying on their secrets.

There are honest to god crickets chirping somewhere nearby and enough chatter going on around him to make it feel like home even if the accents are all wrong. It’s peaceful and although it’s not that late walking in the open air all day has sapped enough of Babe’s energy that his eyes are drifting shut despite the fact he’s laying on the ground with just his rolled up jacket for a pillow when a loud _BANG_ rings through the camp.

At first Babe takes it for a car backfiring or maybe fireworks, then he remembers where he is and his eyes snap open as shots begin to echo through the night. He rolls over and draws his gun but it’s hard to make anything out in the dim lighting. The shots seem to be coming from all around them and he can’t see anything but darkness beyond their little camp.

On the other side of the fire he spots Julian looking about in a panic, one of the few men who hadn’t gotten low as soon as the shooting started. His eyes are deer in the headlights wide as he took looks about for the source of the shooting, seemingly oblivious to the target he makes. Babe opens his mouth to call out a warning, but it’s too late.

He doesn’t see the shot hit, it’s too fast for that, but he does see Julian crumple, dark red fluid gushing from his throat.

Babe screams.

It’s hard to know how bad the injury is from here, it looks grave but Julian is still moving and that fills him with hope. He pushes to his feet and managed a few steps across the camp before one of the other men tackles him right back to to the ground.

“There's nothing you can do,” the guy hollers, arms tight around his chest.

“I could get to him,” Babe insists, kicking to try and get free. Nothing here can hurt him - those bullets are just pretend. “Julian, hold on!”

The man holding him lands a stinging blow to the back of his head, one that Babe thinks pushes the limits of what the characters can inflict on the guests, but it doesn't stop Babe fighting until the man adds, “You get to him and then what? He’ll still be dead and cold before you could get him back to town for the doctor to see to.”

Just a few yards away Julian is thrashing but Babe falls still. All he’d been thinking of what getting to Julian but even if he can get there Babe doesn't know if the little bit of first aid he knows would work on a park inhabitant and it wouldn't be enough to save Julian - he needs modern medicine.

Babe lets his face sink into the sand, trying to block out the sound of Julian’s choking cries and the gunshots of the men still fighting.

Finally the night falls silence once more, and the man by his side drags Babe to his feet and keeping him moving as they make way to a safer campground. There's no suggestion of going back for the body.

 _That wasn’t real_ , Babe reminds himself, _None of this is real, not the guns, not the treasure, not Julian._ There’s no body to go back for, just the shell of a character whose role is played out - a puppet taken offstage until the next performance. He tells himself that until his heart stops pounding, but he’s starting to see why the park made everyone who entered sign a waiver.

He wants to go home. That wasn’t a fun bit of pretend it was horrifying and he finds that his hands are shaking so badly he has to holster his gun. Aiden may have said the weapons couldn’t hurt anyone they weren’t meant to hurt, but right now he doesn’t trust himself holding it.

Before he had been too caught up in the adventure to really think about the fact it was actually pretty cold and that they couldn’t see far by just the slight of the stars and the flickering campfire flames, but now he stares into the shadows wondering what else might be lurking in them to attack the party.

He shivers.

*

They find the treasure on Sunday, right on schedule. Two more guys get killed in the process, but Babe never spoke to them and they aren’t real so when he saw them go down he just turned away. The leader of the treasure hunters is celebratory - and glibly dismissive when Babe points out that Julian, and the others, died getting them there. Apparently the fact that they knew what they were signing up for makes it okay, even though Babe doesn’t think Julian did, how could he know on his first time out that things would end the way they did?

All for a share in treasure that isn’t even real.

 _‘Nor was he_ ,’ Babe reminds himself, but the thought and his memories nag at him as they hike back to the town and as he puts his share of the treasure into the bank, a system set up so that regular players can have continuity, and he realises he can’t just put all this behind him as he gets back on the train to take him back to reality.

After all, he has a year long pass. Now he knows how the story goes how hard can it be to give it a happy ending?


End file.
